


my love isn't lost, it's all i've got

by albypotter



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: M/M, Trans Scorpius Malfoy, dark au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 18:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21213203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albypotter/pseuds/albypotter
Summary: The fragments of his own world and this world just don’t seem to match up, cracked puzzle pieces sorted into the wrong boxes. He’s gone wrong here, somehow, he has a different name and a different look and a different personality and everything iswrong, wrong, wrong.





	my love isn't lost, it's all i've got

**Author's Note:**

> title from super fade by fall out boy

He doesn’t notice it, at first. There’s so much happening - he's in the lake, and _Albus is gone_ \- so the hair that curls down his neck to reach past his shoulders seems like the least of his worries. It’s a family tradition, after all. Not one he ever thought he’d follow, not in his world, but clearly this is a different version of him. It’s okay, he thinks. It's strange, but he can deal with it. But when a voice calls his name (no, not his name, not any more) the silent fear that’s been building up releases and flashes through him like a hot bolt of lightning. Of all the things that could have changed in an alternate timeline, he would never have expected _this_. 

He hears that name again, scrambles out of the lake, choking and desperate. The fragments of his own world and this world just don’t seem to match up, cracked puzzle pieces sorted into the wrong boxes. The headmistress is speaking to him - to _her_? - but he can’t process the words. He’s too stuck on the fact that this is all his fault. He’s the one who let Albus turn time again, and now his best friend is gone and he’s broken and there are dementors and darkness all around him. Words echo around his head, but he can't focus on them long enough to listen or speak. He feels like he's flailing wildly, trying to grasp what's happening, but the understanding dances just out of his reach. He’s gone wrong here, somehow, he has a different name and a different look and a different personality and everything is _wrong, wrong, wrong_. 

* * *

"Scorpius." 

The relief of hearing his name, his real name, floods through him, right down to his bones. He soaks it in, doesn’t know when he’ll hear it again. None of this makes sense to him, not yet, and maybe it never will, but knowing that his father can see him for who he truly is means that he can relax. Just a little, just here and now. He is who he is, and someone knows, at least. 

"This business at the school. What’s inspired it?" 

"I don’t want to be who I am." It’s true on multiple levels, he realises with a sort of grim humour. Draco scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. 

"We’ve talked about this, son. You’ve seen first hand how intolerant they are. I’m sorry that you have to hide yourself like this, but it’s the only way." 

Scorpius chokes, then, on nothing and everything, on the air and on the words he can’t say, because it’s only been two days but this world and all its pressures are already unbearable. That his father knows him is good, at least, but having to hear that name and know that they mean him is an oil slick spreading poison through his hollow body. He’s already empty, but every time someone looks at him and sees skirts and long hair and the shape of his chest, another piece of him falls away. 

“I can’t bear it, dad,” he tries again, small and broken, because his gender in this world should be the least of his worries given everything else that’s wrong, but it still feels bigger than anything else somehow. It overwhelms him, and he's at breaking point.

“I know.” Draco is hard and soft at the same time, an oxymoron that only hurts him further. “But you must.” 

* * *

Snape and Hermione and Ron call him Malfoy, only Malfoy, and it’s a dark joy in this dark world because that’s the only part of him that matters here. His name is the only thing he has to hold onto. He will make his family proud, he will right the wrongs he’s caused, and if after everything it still costs him his identity, he can fix that later. 

_I am better off in this world, but this world is not better. _

Maybe that’s true, maybe it isn’t. He’s safe, popular, he has everything he used to secretly wish for at school except for the one thing that really matters. He isn’t himself here, in the worst way, and all he can think about is getting back to his own time and his Albus and himself. 

* * *

He cries in the lake when Albus’ head breaks the surface of the murky water, and he cries harder when Albus calls him _Scorpius_. The wet tightness of his binder should be uncomfortable, because the edges of it are cutting into his skin, but instead he’s happier than he’s ever been. It’s terrifying to realise that he doesn’t know yet what might be different in this third hidden world, that there could be any number of things wrong, but at least he’s right again. It’s a sick relief to hear his name, his real name, over and over, in joy, in anger, in any way at all. He should be terrified of being summoned to the headmistress’ office, like he was always terrified before, but he can’t stop smiling. Because he’s back how he should be.

He wants to talk about it, and he doesn’t. He won’t tell everyone, but he wants to tell Albus. 

Scorpius had called Albus the boy who doesn't ever give anything back, but that was wrong. Albus has given him more than he ever could have asked for, friendship and loyalty and a shield from the taunts that still follow him in his dreams. _Daughter of Voldemort._ A lie twice over. He thinks darkly that maybe, if the accusatory ink on his trunk had read _Son of Voldemort_, he might not have minded so much. But Albus never gave him the chance to mind it. He had practised _scourgify _until he could do it in his sleep, and the words were always scrubbed from Scorpius' possessions as quickly as they appeared. Scorpius had never appreciated just how much he relied on Albus until he lost him, but now that he knows, every moment they spend apart feels hollow and empty. 

He lies awake for hours, alone. He knows that if he falls asleep, there are nightmares waiting for him, so he forces his tired eyes open and thinks of Albus. Albus, who has a heart of gold, who has his own flaws and heavy insecurities, but has never been anything but kind to him even when he's suffering himself. Albus, who was so desperate to make sure Cedric experienced the love that he had never known himself, that he almost destroyed the world. Albus, who saved Scorpius' life.

He's certain of that, now, at a time where he feels like he can barely be certain of anything. The darkness twists and spirals around him in filthy black trails, and Albus is the only thing that he's sure is real. He thinks back to the lake, awful as it was; if he hadn't known Albus, he would have died there, in that dark world. Thoughts of Albus were the only thing that kept him sane when that awful cold descended. His mother was calling to him. He heard her voice, he could almost feel her presence, and he would have gone with her if it wasn't for Albus, tying him to life. The memories of kind eyes and soft smiles and gentle, reassuring touches were almost sucked out of him, but he held on. 

The realisation that he's in love with Albus comes rather quickly after that. 

* * *

It's difficult to say. It was always going to be difficult, of course, but sitting here with Albus on his bed watching him expectantly is heavy in a new way. His eyes are dark and maybe a little scared, and it makes sense. They both survived something awful. Well, Albus nearly didn't survive, nearly didn't ever exist in the first place, but that's too terrible to think about.

"You know, you saved my life." It's a start, at least. Maybe Albus will be distracted with questions and then Scorpius won't have to admit that he's in love. Just thinking it gives him chills.

"I wasn't even there, Scorpius. I didn't do anything."

After everything, Albus still can't see how important he is. How desperately _loved _he is. Water rises in his chest like a tidal wave, and the words flow from Scorpius' mouth in a flood. 

"I mean it, Albus. If I hadn't known you, I would've been dead. Or- or a lifeless shell of myself. Do you know what meeting a dementor does to you? You don't, you couldn't possibly, because you've never come across one before. I envy you that, really, because it's worse than anything you could imagine, Albus. It's like..." He has to stop, choke back the horror of the memory. Albus' dark eyes are intense and lovely, and Scorpius's heart surges. He's so lucky to have this. He's so lucky to have Albus back with him again. 

"They suck out all your happiness. Every happy memory you've ever had, gone. You were fading, Albus, and it was the worst I've ever felt. I thought I'd never feel love again. Not from anyone else, not from inside myself. But you're still here, now, and you're real, and I know you're real because I can feel it again. They could've taken everything, but they didn't take my love. They didn't take my love for you."

Albus' face is blank - shock, maybe, or a carefully constructed mask? Scorpius knows what's coming already. He's known since the instant he realised. Albus doesn't love him in that way - he loves everyone, he'd do anything for anyone, and Scorpius knows he's not special. But he can't keep these things inside him any more. It's a relief, having it out in the open. Even if Albus will hate him now. 

"You don't love me, Scorpius." 

It's funny, really, how Albus thinks he knows him. It's funny how much he doesn't know. Scorpius cups Albus's face in his hands, so close that their breath mixes in the space between them and he can smell Albus's mint toothpaste. 

"Trust me," he says, soft and breathless. "I do." 

He knows he shouldn't. He should back away, apologise, in case he ruins things further. But Albus doesn't seem disgusted, isn't backing away, isn't doing anything to resist him even though he's had plenty of opportunity. _One kiss_, Scorpius thinks. _If I could kiss Albus, just once, just now, I could survive anything this strangely light new world throws at me. _

When he moves, Albus kisses him back. He feels like empty open air, like they're existing in a vacuum, like the only things in the world are Albus and him and the bedsheets they're floating on. Albus murmurs something against his mouth, lips impossibly soft, his fingers gentle on Scorpius's skin.

"I never thought," Albus says, "that you'd feel the same." 

Of course he didn't. Of course this beautiful, selfless boy would never expect anything from him other than what he was willing to give. But what Albus doesn't know is that Scorpius's heart has always belonged to him, since they first met, and it always will. He says as much, and Albus's mouth finds his again in the fading light. Albus pulls all the darkness out of him, fills him up with love and joy until he thinks he might burst from it. 

_I love you._

They don't even have to say it, now. They both just know. 

**Author's Note:**

> someone said some very nice things about this so i'm putting it back up! trans scorpius is the one hc i will never ever let go of, i Love Him
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr at albypotter/twitter @wesninska!


End file.
